"That will require some consideration," replied he, apparently pleased with the idea.
"Of course your client in this matter is entirely in your power. He cannot shake you off, and whatever arrangement is made with the lady shall be done through you. Now, if you will give me her address, I will go and see her, and in the mean time you can make up your estimate of the sum that ought to be paid to you," I said, with the most business-like air I could assume.
"I will do it," replied he, after some hesitation; and he wrote the address on a piece of paper.
How eagerly I took it! I felt then that the battle had been fought and won. On the paper was written: "Mrs. Thornton, Stony Stratford, Bucks. Inquire for Mrs. Challis." My business with Mr. Bunyard was done, and I hastened away, though he insisted upon my remaining longer. I think he was sorry he had given me the address before I left the room.
Being near the banker's, I drew fifty pounds, which was paid without question.
I went back to Morley's, and ascertained that Stony Stratford was on the road to Rugby, and that I must leave the train at Wolverton station. I called a Hansom cab, and reached Euston Square depot just in time for the train. I will not attempt to describe the emotions which agitated me as I sped over the country. I was on the point of meeting my mother, and though the rich panorama of an English landscape was passing before me, I could think of nothing else. In two hours I reached the Wolverton station, and there learned that it was four and a half miles to Stony Stratford. I engaged a team to take me over. My driver inquired till he found the house of Mrs. Challis. It was a small and mean dwelling, and I began to feel indignant that my mother was compelled to live in such a place. My knock, under the influence of this feeling, was a very decided one.
"Is Mrs. Thornton at home?" I inquired—my utterance almost choked by agitation—of the woman who came to the door.
"She is, but she don't see any one," replied the woman, sourly, as she abruptly closed the door in my face.
I rapped again, and my knuckles not proving sufficient, I used my boot.
"You can't see Mrs. Thornton!" snarled the woman, angrily, as she opened the door a little crack.